


Emergency Contact

by childofthenight2035



Series: tumblr reboots [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hospitals, M/M, Mentions of Car Accidents, Mentions of Coma, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofthenight2035/pseuds/childofthenight2035
Summary: Mark woke up one morning, hoping to find a roommate and some peace.He certainly doesn't expect Jackson, nor the fact that they've been passing each other by a fine thread.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung, Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Series: tumblr reboots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964758
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so this was a reader insert fic i modified because who doesn't love markson

_The hospital receptionist’s face fell when she caught sight of Jackson walking in. Her face twisted in pity, but the boisterous arrival didn’t seem to notice._

_“Good morning, Yeeun-ssi!” He greeted cheerfully, sliding his visitor’s pass across the front desk. “I ran late yesterday so I couldn’t make it.”_

_Yeeun seemed to be holding in an ocean of sorrow as she pushed the card back to him. “I’m sorry, sir.”_

_Jackson’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, sorry? For wh—“ He fell silent, gazing at Yeeun, who couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “No,” he breathed out. “That can’t be.”_

_“I tried calling you yesterday, sir,” she pleaded. “If only it was just a day later…” She shook her head sadly. Fate was cruel._

_Could I have said goodbye? Jackson thought._

_“How did he…?”_

_“They…they pulled the plug.”_

-

Mark opened his eyes to the jarring sound of his alarm, wishing more than anything else that he was dreaming and it wasn’t yet morning. But no. When did things ever go his way? Blindly reaching out, he smashed the snooze button.

Groaning, he pushed away covers that were barely there. In the heat, he had kicked off the thin blanket he draped over himself anyway—again.

It was only morning, but he could already feel the humidity beginning to cling to his skin. How he wished he could fall back onto the mattress and drift off! The silence of the apartment reminded him of another thing, however—the poster he had drawn up the previous night: an advertisement for a flatmate. He really needed some noise and movement to distract him, especially after last month. Why did Dahyun have to move out?

The alarm began beeping again.

He had to get to work.

.

Saturdays at the library were always a sort of hassle. There were more children and their misinformed parents over the weekend than any other day. Of course, there were some absolute darlings who loved to read and could sit for hours on end with their noses in a book or two. But on the other hand…

He sighed as he pushed open the door of the public library, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Before he could make it to the counter where he would be stationed for the day, he was stopped abruptly by a rather raucous child dashing across his path.

…On the other hand, those darlings always had siblings that had no interest in developing the skill of reading at all. Little rascals who came there only by force and chose to make as much noise as they could get away with.

He pursed his lips, staring distastefully at the runaway before walking swiftly over to the bulletin board. Slipping the notice for a flatmate out of his pocket, he pinned it to the board, then plopped down at the counter, depositing his backpack under the desk.

“Good morning, Mark!” his co-worker Daniel chirped.

“Good morning, Daniel,” he replied dully, scooting his chair subtly away from him. Mark really didn’t have his energy at the moment. He loved the guy, but it was a little grieving to hear about his girlfriend twenty-four seven. To his relief, someone approached Daniel at that moment, pulling his attention off of him.

There were quite the number of high schoolers despite it being a weekend, he noticed. _Ah. There’s a reading room that the high schoolers are doing today, huh?_ His gaze swept around the seating area to his left. A familiar face caught his eye.

 _What’s Jinyoung sunbae doing over here? Is he reading to the kids, too?_

He was sitting with someone Mark couldn’t see because their back was to him. They seemed to be in some sort of deep discussion. He wasn’t worried. Anyone who came to the library with Park Jinyoung was sure to be just as much of a bookworm.

“Mark!” He jumped at his supervisor’s voice, tearing his eyes away from his senior and looking up. His supervisor tilted her head toward a cart full of books. “Be a dear and put these back, won’t you? I’ll man the desk for a bit.”

He bit back a curse, choosing instead to nod and leap up. He would have to dodge some more kids but at least he could get away from Daniel’s overwhelming energy and rude ‘I-have-a-late-fee-but-I-have-no-intention-of-paying-it-off-quietly-I’d-rather-annoy-you-for-a-solid-ten-minutes-before-doing-just-that’ people.

.

“Jackson, I swear to every god there is, if you don’t find a place to live by the end of the weekend, I’m kicking you out. You can sleep on the streets.” Jackson flinched a little at Jinyoung’s sharp threat, but still pouted to lessen the impact—in vain; Jinyoung hadn’t even glanced up from his book to say all that. Some people didn’t even need eye contact to be intimidating.

“In this heat? Why, Jinyoungieee,” Jackson whined, dragging out his name. No effect. Park gae didn’t move. “Where will I go?”

“If you hadn’t dropped out, you could be staying at the dorms—legally,” Jinyoung remarked. “I’m not risking any more trouble sneaking you in.” Before Jackson could whine his name again, he continued. “Where’s JB hyung? Aren’t you always with him?”

Jackson chewed on the inside of his cheek, wondering how much he should tell Jinyoungie—or rather, wondering how much he already knew. “Uhh…we kinda stopped talking to each other for a while…”

This made Jinyoung look up from the page he was reading, eyes narrowing. “You fought?”

Jackson twitched his shoulders. “Not exactly. Just…” Thankfully, Jinyoung didn’t force him to elaborate, only shooting him a look that said he would definitely be interrogated about it later. “And then hyung went to Japan, remember?”

“But he came back.” Jinyoung was biting his lip in confusion. Funny how anything related to JB hyung made him a million times more attentive.

“He did. But…”

“Now you feel awkward going and begging for living space when you haven’t contacted him in so long?”

Jackson scratched the back of his neck. How the heck does Jinyoungie talk so accurately? “Sure. You could put it that way.”

Jinyoung sighed, sitting up and closing his book. “Do you really think JB hyung feels that way? I know he’s scary when he’s mad, but he still cares about you, hyung. Go and see him. It’ll be fine.”

“But hyung’s so busy and he doesn’t have that much room…and he has his cats…”

Jinyoung tilted his head, thinking. “Well. That’s true. Then what are you going to do?” Jackson could only shrug in defeat, staring around the library without seeing what he was looking at—a staff member putting books back on the shelves…kids running around…Jinyoungie absently picking at the corner of his book…general peace.

Wordlessly, Jinyoung stood to check out the book he had been reading. Jackson followed.

“Hello again, Jinyoung hyung!” the boy at the counter said brightly.

“Hey, Daniel. How are your classes going?”

Jackson totally zoned out on the interaction between the two. _Maybe I shouldn’t have dropped out in the first place,_ he thought. _I could be doing something with myself by now._

He hadn’t realized how deeply he’d gone imagining the life he could have led until he felt Jinyoung smacking his arm hard.

“Jackson!” he exclaimed, more forcefully, pointing to something. The bulletin board. More specifically, an ad pinned to the board.

An ad for a flatmate. Not too far from here.

“Seems like your lucky day, huh?” Jinyoung clapped him on the shoulder, taking a picture of it at the same time. “Go there today. You really don’t have much of an option.”

Jackson groaned.

“Fine.”

-

The doorbell ringing brought Mark out of his stupor. Hastily placing the photograph back on his bedside table and wiping his face off with a nearby towel, he made his way to the front door.

Now, living on the fourth floor in an apartment with no working elevators, he had seen nearly everyone who came by his place looking absolutely wrecked, but it still took him aback every time. Mark eyed the panting young man who stood outside his door in pity. Perhaps he thought he would have a few more seconds to catch his breath. He wondered how long he had been standing there before he rang the bell.

Fuck the standard questions. “Are you okay?”

He raised a hand and nodded, drawing one last breath and stabling himself. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“It’s quite a climb, isn’t it?”

He nodded. A beat passed in silence and then he seemed to remember why exactly he had rung his bell. “Ah!” he exclaimed, pulling out his phone. “Is this…?”

He turned it around, showing him the screen. Mark squinted at it, taking the phone in his hand. It was a chat in which someone had sent him the picture of his poster and a message under it— _‘pls make a good impression for once’_. He pressed his lips together to stifle his amusement—and then he saw the contact who had sent him the text.

“JYP?” He yelped, looking at the man in front of him in awe. “You know JYP?” The man snatched his phone back in embarrassment.

“I—That’s a friend,” he said hastily. “He goes to SIU. I just call him that because he has the same name.”

That sounded familiar. “Wait, Park Jinyoung? Psychology? You’re friends with him?”

Jackson hesitated. “Yeah…you know him?”

Mark smiled. “I go to SIU, too. He’s my senior. Who doesn’t know him?”

“Oh…that’s cool!” he replied, his face brightening. “I’ll definitely bring him around—if you accept me as your flatmate?”

 _Ah, so that’s what’s happening here._ Mark crossed his arms, fighting a smile. “Are you already bribing me? I can’t believe you. I already have half a mind to not let he live here.”

His smile fell. “What? Whyy?” He didn’t hide the whine that escaped him.

 _Aw, that’s cute._ “I’m kidding. If you’re a friend of Jinyoung sunbae, I’m guessing you’re a good guy.”

He frowned. “I’m sure that should be the other way, but it’s fine. I’m not arguing. Kinda desperate, here. Do you want me to, like, call Jinyoungie for you? To “affirm my credibility” or whatever?” He made air quotations.

Mark laughed it off, gesturing that he didn’t need to. _He seems like a good guy. Maybe I won’t have to search any longer._

It had taken Mark several years to get accustomed to the area and despite his initial reaction to this stranger, he wasn’t very outgoing. He’d been worried that he wouldn’t be able to find anyone, simply because he never went around asking. 

“I’m Jackson, by the way,” he suddenly spoke, looking sheepish. “Forgot to introduce myself.”

“Ah. I’m Mark. And I’m desperate, too.” He sighed, blowing his hair off his face. “Do you know how glad I am that I rejected the guy who showed up before you? What a douchebag.”

A look of concern flashed across Jackson’s face. “Someone came before me? Did he, like, try to hurt you or something? You’re okay?”

_And he’s already concerned about me. I really really hope he doesn’t end up an asshole._

“I’m perfectly fine. Let’s talk splitting rent.”

.

“That’s the last of it,” Jackson announced.

Mark stood aside as Jackson’s friend (Namjoon, was it?) dumped the two boxes he was carrying onto the floor, utterly exhausted. He couldn’t blame him. The two had been walking up and down the four flights of stairs with Jackson’s possessions all morning. Mark had helped, of course. But they weren’t used to climbing four floors like he was.

“That better be the last, you jerk,” Namjoon spat. “When you said, ‘let’s hang out’, I didn’t think you meant this.” He wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve.

“I’ll pay you back for this, man.” Jackson patted his shoulder. “Let me buy you meat tonight.” His friend looked suspiciously at him but relented. Mark bowed him out.

To be honest, he hadn’t realized how short Jackson was compared to a lot of other people until Namjoon was standing beside him. Although he supposed Namjoon was just a giant. But still.

“I’m so tired,” Jackson whined, flopping down onto his mattress.

“Good,” Mark retorted, kneeling down to face him. “When you’re tired, you listen better. There is a rule in this household: you’re not allowed in my room.”

Jackson gasped, exaggerating his reaction. “Are you a dictator now? Rules? Will I be chucked into jail if I don’t obey? Do I have to go into hiding?”

He rolled his eyes. “I literally only said you weren’t allowed in my room at any cost. Isn’t that a reasonable request? You can make your own rules, too. No one’s stopping you.”

“Nah.” He shrugged. “You can come into my room, I don’t really mind. Nothing in here anyway.” He narrowed his eyes at Mark. “What are you hiding? Please don’t tell me you’re harbouring a fugitive in there.”

“Oh my gosh, no.” He stood up again. “I just want my privacy. My old flatmate respected it, so I expect you to as well. Okay? I’ll respect yours if you respect mine.”

He nodded. “I know. I’m just kidding. Are you always so uptight?” Mark frowned at the goofy expression on his face. “I promise I won’t go into your room.” 

_He seems sincere enough. Maybe he wouldn’t be so bad…_

.

“JACKSON!” Mark shouted, pounding on the wall that divided their bedrooms. “KEEP IT THE FUCK DOWN!” If the volume went down at all, he couldn’t tell. Weary from lack of sleep for the past week or so, he rolled over and squinted at the time on his phone.

“Three thirty-four,” he muttered furiously. “THREE THIRTY-FOUR!”

And then the doorbell rang. And it rang again.

“Nobody ever does anything in this house,” he said loudly while forcing himself up off the bed, half-hoping Jackson would hear it. But of course, he wouldn’t. The amount of noise that was emanating from his room made sure of that.

The ringing became quite insistent and when he yanked the door open, wondering who on earth it wouldn’t be, he came face to face with Mr. Ok, the next-door neighbour. A tall man in his thirties, Mark had always found him quite the character—and he would’ve thought his pajamas and bedhead looked cute if it wasn’t for the expression of pure murder on his face.

“Oh…Mr. Ok,” he greeted with a hesitant bow.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?” he nearly spat, hands balling into fists that Mark knew he wouldn’t hesitate to use if he snapped. “Don’t you know we’re all trying to sleep?”

He winced. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Ok, I’ve been trying to get Jackson to quiet down for a while, but he’s not listening—“

“Where is he?” He growled, stepping inside without invitation. Mark jumped at the chance of getting Mr. Ok himself to threaten Jackson. He led him gleefully to his flatmate’s door. After pounding on it for a solid minute, in which the noise levels dropped completely, the door opened to reveal Jackson lazily yawning—clearly expecting Mark to be standing there. His features rapidly rearranged themselves to a politer expression when he realized it wasn’t.

“Ah, hyung!” he exclaimed. “What a surprise!”

 _Hyung?_ he questioned silently. _Since when has he become so chummy with Mr. Ok?_

“Surprise, huh?” Mr. Ok hissed, eyes daggers. “What the hell are you doing, making so much noise?” It seemed to be rhetorical, because he didn’t give Jackson a chance to answer. “I have to get up at six, as do many people in this establishment. A lot of them have to go to work, or school, and a lot of them have families to take care of. I’m aware you have no such commitments—perks of being unemployed, I suppose—“ Jackson’s face twisted slightly. “—but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to do whatever you want. When you live in close proximity with a lot of people, you have to learn to be considerate of others. Forget others, you live with a flatmate. At least be considerate to him!”

Jackson didn’t answer. Mark assumed he was still stinging over the ‘unemployed’ comment.

Mr. Ok didn’t even try to soothe his harsh words before he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He must have been tolerating it for longer than he let on.

Mark crossed his arms and smiled smugly at his flatmate. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

And just like that, his meek façade vanished, to be replaced by a pout. “But I wanted to finish the drama! I need the theatre effect to watch it, otherwise it’s just boring!”

Mark threw his hands up in the air and groaned, deciding it would be better for his health to just lock the door and then himself in his bedroom.

Jackson was a mistake. One that he sorely regretted.

In the barely two months that the two began living together, he had learned one thing: Jackson was a force that was very much unstoppable. He would get burned if he so much as dared to try.

He could make a list—hell, he could write a book about the things Jackson did that pissed him off. Was it _his_ problem? Maybe. But it was clear enough that Jackson had certainly never learned how to adjust with people who weren’t on the same energy level as him.

He was loud. Point made. He was boisterous, always moving around, practically bouncing from room to room. Mark often restrained from asking him what gave him the right to look so damn happy. Perhaps he was just jealous. His classes had begun again, and while he was working his ass off and burning the midnight oil just to keep his grades up, Mr. Unemployed seemed to be having the time of his life. Where did he even get the money to pay his rent off?

More than once, or even eight times, he had walked into the bathroom to find water literally everywhere—on the toilet seat, around the sink, on the floor, sometimes even on the walls. He couldn’t possibly imagine what Jackson was even doing that made the entire damn place wet. He played music at night, loudly, with no regard for his wellbeing and the neighbours’. The nights he came home tipsy were even worse. And now he was watching a drama, it seemed. In full theatre mode.

The one rule Mark had—of Jackson not being allowed to enter his room—had now expanded into a full three-page document, taped to the wall between their bedrooms.

Mark remembered how concerned Jackson had been about making a good impression in the first couple of weeks. He had even brought his friend Park Jinyoung around to meet him, as promised. Now Mark understood the pity in Jinyoung’s eyes that day. He’d known things would get worse. Mark still got embarrassed when Jinyoung sought him out in the cafeteria to ask how he was doing and if Jackson was giving him a hard time.

.

The breaking point came soon after.

It was a Thursday night and Mark had just finished an essay due the day after, one that he’d been working on for the past week. So he was already running on barely three hours on sleep a day. It was past midnight, and Jackson still wasn’t home. He was probably lying drunk somewhere. As much as Mark wished he could just go to sleep and leave him to his own devices, he knew damn well that if Jackson did show up, he would likely leave the door wide open and drool all over the couch.

Mark wasn’t about to get robbed just because of Jackson’s bad decisions.

After calling him yet again and hearing no dial tone, he tossed his phone onto the dining table and waited with his head in his arms.

.

“I’m not drunk, Joonie!” A loud exclamation, followed by someone shushing the voice was heard outside his door.

Mark swung it open, looking pissed enough for Namjoon—Jackson’s go-to designated driver and body hauler—to look ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You know I can’t control Jackson.”

“I’m not drunk, though?” Said man slurred, collapsing into a chair.

“Thanks, Namjoon.” He sighed bitterly. “Go home.”

As the door closed, Jackson lifted his head and repeated, “I’m not drunk, though.”

“Oh, really?” Mark snapped, raising his voice. “Then listen to this: I’m not your fucking servant or something, just waiting for my master to come home so I can attend to you! I’m a student and I have a shit ton of work to do and just because you are so useless you can’t find a job doesn’t mean I have to suffer for it!”

Fury dashed across Jackson’s face. Seizing the first thing he saw on the table, he threw it with all his might at the wall behind Mark, where it shattered and fell to the floor. Mark tensed, fear coursing through him, trembling as Jackson came closer.

“Fucking shut up, I already have a headache.”

And then he was gone, leaving behind nothing but the stench of alcohol. His door slammed.

Silence.

Mark slid to the floor, stunned. How could things have gone so wrong?

With shaking hands and a pounding heart, he felt around for his phone. The screen was cracked beyond repair, glass scattered all around him. What did he expect, that it would survive being thrown against a wall with Jackson’s muscle?

 _Enough_ , he decided. _Enough was enough. He has to go._

And if Mark cried himself to sleep that night against the dining room wall, nobody had to know.

-

“Mark!”

He didn’t even think that anyone would actually be calling his name. So he didn’t stop. The entire day had him fuming internally, and he didn’t think anyone deserved to hear his outburst.

“Mark!”

He halted. Normally he would be absorbed in his phone, but today he didn’t have it. Of course he didn’t. After last night, he didn’t even think it was safe to. Mark turned when he sensed the person—what did he mean, _person_ , of course it was Park Jinyoung—catch up to him. If he was in his right mind at the moment, he might have been a mildly blushing mess. Who wouldn’t be? It was Park fucking Jinyoung. But now? He was five point three centimeters from losing his temper completely and he couldn’t help but resent Jinyoung for being friendly with him _now_ when two months ago, he didn’t know his name, despite being his senior.

Mark sighed, turning around to face him. “Yes, sunbae?”

If Jinyoung was taken aback by his slight rudeness, he didn’t show it. “I tried calling Jackson yesterday and this morning, and he didn’t pick up. Is he okay?”

He pursed his lips. “I couldn’t care less about Jackson, sunbaenim. You know my address, if you’re so concerned, why don’t you go and see how he is?” He scoffed and made to turn away, but Jinyoung caught his arm.

“Whoa, what’s with the attitude?” He teased, pulling him along down the hall and into the student council’s meeting room, currently empty. “You okay? What did he do?”

A little comforted that he immediately assumed his friend did something wrong, Mark slumped his shoulders. “A lot happened.”

“Clearly.” Jinyoung leaned against the president’s desk and folded his arms. Mark didn’t know if he was analyzing him or not. His face flushed under his senior’s gaze.

“He went out and came back drunk beyond words,” Mark explained, irritated at the memory. “And maybe I shouldn’t have, but I yelled at him saying that I wasn’t his servant to wait or clean up after him and—” he broke off, hesitating. “I might have told him off for not having a job.”

Jinyoung winced. “He’s pretty touchy about that.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He let out a bitter sigh. “He smashed my phone.”

“Wait, what?” Jinyoung lifted himself off the desk, looking at him in disbelief. “He—he smashed your phone? Jackson Wang?” Mark nodded, spreading his palms out.

“That’s why I don’t have it today. The screen shattered.”

Jinyoung looked genuinely disturbed. “It’s not like Jackson to lose his temper like that.”

Mark didn’t want excuses made for him, even if he had been drunk. “Oh, really? Pray, do tell.”

“Mark—”

“Why? What did I do? Am I wrong?” If his eyes were daggers, Jinyoung would be bleeding now. “Tell me, sunbaenim. Am I just a maid to him?” He bit the inside of his cheek and spoke the words he had been contemplating all night. “I know what you asked me, but he’s going to get kicked out soon if he keeps it up. The neighbours are already blacklisting him. If they tell him to leave, I won’t be able to hold any ground by myself.”

Jinyoung seemed at a loss for words, appalled by both Jackson’s and Mark’s behavior. “Listen, I’ll talk to him, okay?” He checked his watch. “You should get to class.”

 _What’s the point?_ He thought, conceding anyway. Just before he closed the door, he heard Jinyoung call his name.

“And no, Mark,” he said, a tight smile on his lips, “you’re not wrong. Give me your phone number.”

-

Mark refused to return home that day, choosing to stay all night in the library—until Jinyoung met up with him and nearly begged him to go back to his apartment.

“I’ve talked to him,” he had said, “and he’s really sorry about everything that happened last night. Truth be told, he doesn’t remember some of it, but anyway, he’s sorry. Hear him out.”

He couldn’t believe he was being forced to accept whatever pathetic apology his roommate was going to give him—just because he was his roommate and he had to live with him. It just wasn’t fair.  
But when Mark stepped in through the door, the first thing that registered was the aroma wafting to him—the smell of food. Curious, he peered around the door and saw their little table beautifully set, dishes spread out all over it. And behind them all, obediently sitting on a chair, was Jackson. Guilty smile on his face, but still.

 _So this is his apology_ , he thought, closing the door and kicking off his shoes. _A food bribe._

Mark pursed his lips as he reluctantly approached him, slinging his bag over the back of another chair. He crossed his arms. “What’s all this?”

Jackson shifted uncomfortably in his seat, diverting his gaze from his harsh stare. “I…uh, I wanted to apologize for the stuff I did…last night.” He pressed his lips together. “For breaking your phone and yelling at you and…stuff.” From under the table, he brought out a small box Mark instantly recognized as one a phone came in. “I got you a new one.”

His lips parted in surprise. “You—wait, you got me a new phone?” His tone did not hide his disbelief at all. “But…that’s expensive!”

“It’s my fault that yours is broken beyond repair,” he explained. “I’m obliged to do this.”

Mark couldn’t speak for a moment. “But…where did you get the money? I didn’t think—“  
“Borrowed it from my mom,” Jackson admitted, cheeks turning red. “I got an earful, but I had to do what I had to do.” He looked up pleadingly. “I’m really sorry for everything. I don’t usually lose my temper like that, I guess I was just frustrated—that’s no excuse,” he cleared hastily. “I just…I’m sorry.” He gestured to the food on the table. “I got your favourites?”

Mark didn’t know what to think. Jackson stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

_Honestly, why does Wang look like a kicked puppy when he’s sad?_

“I don’t forgive you yet,” he said firmly. Jackson’s face fell. “But I do accept your apology.” Ignoring the sigh of relief that he let out, Mark sat down at the table.

“That’s good enough for now.”

“And I should apologize too,” he added, picking up his chopsticks. “I said some harsh things to you yesterday.”

Jackson waved it off. “No. You were right and I just didn’t want to admit it.” He sighed deeply. “I’ve started looking for a job.”

“That’s great, Jackson.” His smile was genuine now. Looking reassured, his flatmate mimicked him and picked up his own utensils. “I’m glad.”

.

“Yah, who the hell are you texting nowadays?”

Mark heard the whining voice of his flatmate before he saw him. Barely glancing up from his phone, he asked, “What happened, Jackson?”

He scoffed. “See? You’re not even looking at me when you say that. You’re always tapping away on your phone like I don’t exist here! Pay attention to me!” Mark let out a startled yelp when he plopped his heavy body onto his side. “I don’t think you’ve said a full two sentences to me in the past week.” When he ignored him, angling his screen away, Jackson felt suspicious. “Who are you texting—!”

“Yah!” Mark attempted to grab his phone back from him in vain. Jackson suddenly sat up.

“Jinyoung sunbae?!” he shrieked. “As in my friend Park Jinyoung?” He held his phone out of reach with one hand and used his free arm to wrestle Mark to the sofa seat. “What the hell are you even texting him for?”

“He’s not only your friend, Jackson,” he whined, squirming in his grasp. “He’s really nice to me at university, why can’t I talk to him? He’s my senior, too.”

Mark made noises of protest as Jackson began to scroll through the messages the two of them had exchanged. Before long, he was spluttering in fury.

“What is this?” He yelped. “ _Hey Mark, do you want to meet up for coffee?_ Since when has Jin—actually never mind, since when have you two been that close?” He tossed Mark his phone and he took it back gratefully. “So this is why Jinyoung says he’s too busy to get food nowadays, huh?” Heat crept up Mark’s cheeks. “Are you actually blushing right now?” Jackson howled. “Okay, I can’t take this anymore!”

Mark’s phone began to ring. Both of their heads turned to it.

On the screen was a stupid photo of his friend and the name _Jinyoung sunbae._

“Don’t you dare answer that,” Jackson said lowly.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Mark spat in return, sliding the button to answer, pressing the speaker button simultaneously. “Hello, Jinyoung!”

“Hey, Mark, what’s up?” came his voice from the speaker. “Are you busy? You didn’t answer my text.”

He giggled at the expression on Jackson’s face. “No, my flatmate was just being annoying.”

“Ah, Jackson? Is he there? Wait, is this on speaker?” 

“Yah, Jinyoungie!” Jackson burst out, betrayal written all over his face. “Why are you ignoring me for Mark? This isn’t fair; you were my friend first!”

“Are you serious right now, Jackson?” Jinyoung’s voice was amused. “I assumed you would be tired and busy from work. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“But what about Wang gae Park gae?” he grouched.

“Wang what?” Mark looked from the phone to Jackson.

“Never mind about that, Mark,” Jinyoung interjected hastily. “You’re coming, right?”

“Coming where?” A growl emanated from his flatmate.

“Yeah, sunbae, I’ll be there soon.” With words of parting, Mark hung up the call.

“Where are you going with him?” Jackson repeated.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” He stood up, reaching for his backpack.

“Why can’t you tell me? I thought I was your flatmate, shouldn’t I be worried? What if you don’t come back?”

Mark burst out laughing. “Why would I not come back? Don’t you trust your own friend?” Jackson opened his mouth to protest, but Mark was already halfway out the door. “See you later, Jacks!”

-

“You should have seen his face!” he told Jinyoung later, laughing along with him at the memory. “Has he always been like that?”

“He’s jealous.” Jinyoung shrugged.

“Hmm. Yeah. He really likes you, you know.” Mark pointed his pencil at him. “Why do you reject him when he asks you to get food? It’s like stealing candy from a puppy.”

“He _likes_ me?” Jinyoung retorted incredulously. “The heck? It’s me he’s _jealous_ of.”

It was his turn to be puzzled. “What do you mean? He was literally whining about him being your friend first and that I was stealing you away from him.”

Jinyoung guffawed into the crook of his arm. “Okay, if you don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do about it.” He jabbed his pen at his textbook. “What are you guys learning in class now?”

-

Jackson was bored. His best friend had ditched him for his flatmate. _And vice versa,_ he supposed. How long could someone flop around on a bed and flick a fidget spinner around? He almost wished he had to go in for work today. Even washing dishes sounded better than what he was doing at the moment.

He groaned into his pillow. _Why has everyone forsaken me? Honestly Jackson, just get your ass up and do something other than faceplanting into the bed._

Pushing himself off the mattress, he stumbled to his feet, still flicking the spinner around. His stomach rumbled. _Food,_ he thought blearily, banging against the doorframe on his way out of the room. “Ow! Fu—whoa, no—!” The fidget spinner escaped his grasp and hit the floor sharply, skidding under the door adjacent to his, despite his futile attempts to intercept it with his foot. “Damn!” He stared at the door—Mark’s door—that he had been forbidden to enter at any time, in any situation. To prove it, there was even a piece of paper stuck to the door announcing the same.

Absently, he laid his palm on the handle, but didn’t turn it. “It’s just a fidget spinner; can’t I just open it real quick, grab it and shut it again? That should be okay, right? I won’t look around.” He chewed his lip, second guessing himself. “Ah, fuck it, I’m practically Mark’s boyfriend already. There aren’t any secrets to hide.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he turned the handle, eyes trained to the ground.

The spinner was lying on the ground next to a nightstand. Determinedly not looking around the room, Jackson bent to retrieve the damn thing.

His mistake was looking up as he straightened himself.

His eyes fell on the nightstand. Or rather, the photo framed on it.

His breath hitched. He thought his heart might have stopped beating for a moment.

Within the four wooden pieces stood Mark. Much younger than now; the photo was clearly old. But Jackson’s eyes were on the young boy standing right beside him.

The fidget spinner clattered to the floor again.

_“Hyung!”_

_A car screeching. The sound of an impending accident, lifelong scars._

_Screams._

_Was that glass shattering? Or dreams?_

_Commotion. And cries for a person nobody knew._

_“HYUNG!”_

Jackson gasped, stumbling back a step, the force the picture exerted too strong for him to handle. His plastic toy dug into his heel and he cursed, the pain momentarily diverting his attention from his pounding heart.

Picking up the spinner, he choked out a _‘this can’t be happening’_ before darting out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

He needed air.

_What is going on? This can’t be possible._

_Does Mark know that I…no. That can’t be. It just can’t be!_

_Mark? Of all people? Mark wouldn’t do that…_

_Right?_

.

Jackson wasn’t home when Mark got back.

 _Good for him_ , he thought. _He’s learned to get out of the house by himself._

Mark stretched, glad to be back inside away from the heat outside. It was refreshingly cold inside…unsettlingly so. Why was it cold? Or was he imagining it?

Wondering if Jackson had become thoughtful enough to cook, he ventured into the kitchen, but then clicked his tongue disappointedly on seeing everything as he left it. Of course he hadn’t.

Sometime during his attempt at making pasta, the door opened.

“Jackson?” he called out, hoping it was him.

“Yeah?”

“You like pasta, right? Come here and help me.”

Mark was too occupied with the nearly burning food to notice Jackson’s heartbroken expression, but he did see that he was spacing out really bad. It wasn’t like him to not be bursting into speech animatedly at all times.

“Jackson?” he called for the fourth time, waving a spare hand in front of his face. He jolted.

“Ah, yeah.” He rubbed his eyes. “Shit, sorry. What was that?”

“Could you get some water?” He nodded absently before trudging off to carry out his task. Mark squinted at him. “Something wrong?” Jackson quickly shook his head. But Mark knew him enough to know that he was very, very bad at hiding his emotions. “Don’t lie, Jacks. I can see it in your face. What happened?”

He shrugged, his confusion disappearing almost entirely. “I—uh, I sorta did something, but I won’t tell you because you’ll get mad at me.”

Mark tilted his head. “What did you do?”

He shook his head and pouted, some of the playfulness returning. “You’ll get mad at me.”

“I promise I won’t.”

Jackson looked at him hard, for a moment or two, then cast his gaze to the floor. “I went into your room today.”

Those words dropped into Mark’s head like a bomb. “You what?” He let the fork clatter to the countertop, nearly lunging at him. Jackson caught his arms just in time and held him away.

“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

He huffed loudly, yanking his arms from Jackson’s grip. “And _you_ said you wouldn’t go inside!”

Jackson held out his hands, blocking Mark from coming nearer. “It was an accident! My fidget spinner went under your door!”

He scoffed, turning back to the pot on the stove and wishing his room wasn’t a mess. “Still.” All Mark could think of were the paintings on the walls and the photos. Had Jackson seen them? Would he ask?

“Hmm.” The two of them lapsed into silence for a while. Neither spoke until the pasta was ready and he divided it between them. He sensed that Jackson was itching to say something, but, coward as he was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it.

“Um. Mark?”

He looked up from his bowl, chopsticks faltering. “Yeah?”

Jackson cleared his throat. “Uh, I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help but notice…that picture on his night stand…”

Mark froze, quickly setting his chopsticks down to hide his trembling fingers.

“Who is that?”

.

Jackson knew a more accurate question would be ‘Who _was_ that?’ but he didn’t dare to ask. Mark didn’t know who he was. He hadn’t known who Mark was until this afternoon.

It hurt him. It hurt him to ask about the boy in the photo so casually, as if nothing had ever happened to him, as if one day he would get to see him again. He knew it would hurt Mark, too. But he had no choice. He couldn’t risk the suspicion that he would rouse. Mark would demand answers. He would hate Jackson for lying, for hiding who he was and what he had been doing.

He stared guiltily at Mark, where he sat across from him, clutching the table so hard his knuckles turned pale.

“Does—does it matter that he know who it is?” Mark choked out, evidently trying not to cry.

Jackson abandoned his own chopsticks and reached out to take his shaking hand in his. “It does. It does to me.”

He nodded, eyes red, staring determinedly anywhere but his face. “That’s…Hanyu. My baby cousin.” Jackson inclined his head, encouraging him to say more. Even though he already knew it all. “He stayed in the city in the dorms—he know SOPA?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“He got in and…we were all so proud of him. And since I was already here, his parents weren’t worried about him at all. They—they trusted me.” His voice broke and so did Jackson’s heart. “And one day, there was an accident. Someone took him to the hospital, but he…he fell into a coma.” Nothing more than a whisper. “Four months.”

Jackson didn’t know he had gotten out of his seat until his arms were wrapped around Mark.

“There wasn’t anything we could do. He was just—getting worse. Every day. His father finally gave the order after hoping for so long. To—let him go.” Mark burst into tears and Jackson turned him so he was sobbing into his shoulder. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. They only let him stay because—because I was here. Because I would be there for him.”

“Hey, hey,” he said softly. “It’s not your fault. It…it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were there for him. Things…these things just happen somehow. It’s not your fault.”  
_So, it wasn’t Mark after all?_

A huge weight lifted off his chest. Jackson hadn’t realized how much hatred and resentment he’d been carrying around all this time without knowing it.

It wasn’t Mark.

“How—how are his parents?”

“Not doing good.” Mark sniffed hard, wiping his tears away. “Not good at all.”

Jackson gripped his shoulders and made him look at him. “What about you?”

He watched helplessly as more tears escaped the corners of his eyes. “Neither am I.”

The last thing Mark remembered that night was slumping into Jackson’s arms, drained of energy.

.

Mark didn’t think he would be telling anyone about Hanyu. He hadn’t told anyone except his psychology professor, who had called him to her office sometime in March because he looked too depressed to be taking his finals. And that too, was reluctant. He knew he should talk to someone about it, he knew he should be accompanying Hanyu’s parents to the therapist he forced them to see, but—maybe it was the prolonged blow that lessened the pain to a dull throb. Hope had ebbed away bit by bit, not all at once.

But talking about him to Jackson was so simple. It was almost as if he understood exactly what Mark was going through. Almost as if Hanyu was his own brother.

He wondered if Jackson had lost someone dear to him in the past. Maybe he had. That would explain the sudden compassion he had towards him now. He hadn’t told him everything, just the brief story, but Jackson didn’t press further.

 _He’s sweet_ , Mark realized all too late. _He really is._

-

Mark thought he would be free of his flatmate at least when he went to work on weekends. Jackson was the last person who would willingly enter a library—at least, without an emergency. But no, there he was, still blowing up Mark’s phone about how he slipped in the bathroom and thinks he broke his butt, and then found that his ramen was finished so he couldn’t eat (despite there being like, healthy food somewhere in the fridge) and therefore begging him to buy some on his way home because he couldn’t go (due to the broken butt). Mark was rolling his eyes at the messages, but an endearing smile still crept across his lips.

“Girlfriend?” Daniel crashed his wheely chair into his, peeking over his shoulder at his phone. Mark winced at his knobbly shoulder poking him and turned off the screen.

“No.” He shoved his chair away.

“Boyfriend?”

“No.”

Daniel looked confused. “…Partner?”

 _What an open-minded king._ “No, Kang. Just my flatmate.”

“What?” He scrunched up his nose. “No way. I saw how you were looking at their texts.”

He screeched. “What the heck?” Daniel seemed satisfied at his reaction.

“So, crush?” he confirmed, sniggering at the blush that crept up his neck. “Who is it? Give me their number, I’ll set y’all up.”

“For the love of—”

“Mark!”

He looked up, startled, to see Jinyoung standing on the other side of the counter. Mark straightened up, tensing; he had been sort of avoiding him for a while.

“Sunbae.” Jinyoung pursed his lips in a disapproving stare.

“Where have you been? Do I have to come all the way to the public library to see my junior?” He crossed his arms. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“It’s—it’s not like that, sunbae—”

“Don’t say anything. Jackson’s been telling me about his broken ass—” Mark flinched, eyes darting to Daniel, who for sure misinterpreted that phrase, “—and that you’re ignoring him. What happened?”

“Oh, Mark’s flatmate?”

_Fucking hell, Daniel. Please learn to shut up._

He was sporting a shit-eating grin. “Mark’s got a crush.”

Jinyoung’s lips immediately curled upward and Mark waved his arms around, banging them together in an ‘X’. “No. No, I don’t have a crush!”

“He know it’s okay, right?” His senior reassured. “He likes you, too.”

Oh.

Wait, _what?_

“Huh?” The disbelief was evident in his voice. Jinyoung shrugged, a smug little smile on his face.

“Jackson’s my best friend, Mark. I know him. He tells me things.” He set a book down on the counter in front of Daniel, who obediently took it and scanned it for him. “And I also know he doesn’t have the balls to tell you anything. So, my question is, what are you going to do about it?”

 _What am I going to do about it?_ An idea popped into his head and Mark blurted it out before he could stop himself. “I’ll tell Jackson I like him, when you tell him—what was he called? JB, that _you_ like him.”

Jinyoung’s face paled. “What?”

Now Mark was the smug one. “You heard me, you hypocrite. Confess to your crush and I’ll confess to mine.”

Jinyoung squinted at him, clearly plotting his next move. “Fine,” he retorted, sticking his nose in the air haughtily. “I will.”

-

“You still texting Jinyoungie, huh?” Jackson teased, the pout very much audible in his voice. Mark looked up from his phone. Jackson crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes.

Mark rolled his eyes. “Dude, when will you get over him ditching you? You know damn well he’s drowning in his love for his other friend—who? JB.”

Jackson tensed a little, but Mark didn’t seem to notice. “I know,” he breathed out. “JB hyung is so oblivious. So is Jinyoungie.”

“Besides,” Mark continued, tilting his head coyly, “Jinyoung sunbae says you’ve got a crush on me.”

The way Jackson spluttered at that was hilarious. “Wha—Me? Crush on you? As if.”

“Sure, sure.” He turned back to his phone. Jackson sat down heavily next to him, plopping his head on his lap. Mark peered under his screen to look at him. “Hello. What are you doing?”

“Pay attention to me.” He chuckled at the whine in his tone. “You don’t talk to me anymore.” Jackson grasped his hand and placed it on his head. Mark absently stroked his freshly dyed strands. He would never admit it, but he liked Jackson’s hair blond.

“Are you going to dye it back?”

He shifted, getting comfortable. “Probably not soon. Why? Don’t you like it?” He sat up, twisting to face Mark, horrified. “Do I look bad as a blond?”

He leaned back, laughing. “Stop being so dramatic, Jackson!”

Two knocks on the front door and then it opened. Mark jolted at the sight of Jinyoung staring between the two of them in that position. Jackson turned to follow his gaze and yelled in surprise. Slowly, Jinyoung raised a hand to cover his eyes.

“Yah!” Jackson shouted, the sheer volume causing his ears to pop. “It’s not like that!”

-

As Christmas came and went, his heart grew heavier and heavier. For several reasons. On the one hand, he was crushing hard on his flatmate like it was some dumb romcom cliché. On the other, that date was approaching like a truck at eighty an hour with broken brakes.

A year to the day of the accident.

Mark knew, technically, that Hanyu only passed away in April, but this was truly the day he lost him. Truly the day that something was lost inside him. Something that he may never fully find again…

“Hey, Mark, he see this?” Jackson bounded over to him, holding up a snow globe and shaking it enthusiastically.

…but perhaps, one day, he would.

His eyes softened as he watched Jackson’s infectious smile bloomed. _Would he agree to come with me? He does know about Hanyu, after all._

“Jackson?” Mark asked quietly.

“Yeah?” He looked up and caught his expression.

“Would you come to a place with me if I asked?”

He tilted his head. “Where?”

Mark bit the inside of his cheek. “The funeral home.” As Jackson’s face fell, he continued, “It’s almost a year to the day of…the accident.”

“Ah. It is, isn’t it?” He searched his eyes. “Are you sure about this? About me…coming with you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I think…I think it would be good. If I had someone to talk to about it. And also haul me home. I’m probably…gonna be a mess.”

Jackson reached out, hesitantly, to grip his shoulder tight before drawing him closer for an embrace. “It’s okay,” he said, sounding a little unsure himself. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

-

It was just an ordinary cold Saturday when Mark and Jackson left the apartment to get groceries at the supermarket. When the two were arguing over ramen, they heard a shout.

“Hey, Jackson!”

Both of them turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered young man stroll over. Jackson straightened immediately. An odd sort of feeling crept up Mark’s neck.

_He seems familiar. Have I seen him—_

He gasped silently.

_That’s Jaebeom. How could I forget him?_

“Jackson, man, where have you been?” the man asked, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

His flatmate looked quite uncomfortable. “Guess I got busy, hyung. Sorry.”

Mark had to speak. “Excuse me? You’re—Im Jaebeom…right?”

Jackson quickly intervened. “This is my flatmate, hyung.”

The man turned his focus to Mark, narrowing his eyes curiously, before they widened in recognition. “Oh!” He pointed at him. Mark wouldn’t deny he was surprised Jaebeom remembered him from almost a year ago. “You’re that…Mark. Right? From the hospital?” He faltered at the mention of it. “Ah…um. How is he?”

Mark’s heart clenched painfully, but he forced a smile. “He, uh, passed away. In April.” Jaebeom winced at the news.

“Ah, I’m really sorry.”

He waved it away. “No, no, don’t be. You have my eternal gratitude for getting him to the ER. I don’t know how many people would have done that.”

Jaebeom inclined his head, fidgeting uncomfortably for a moment. “Still…yah, Jackson-ah, you knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mark turned to Jackson curiously. “Hm?” Jackson was pale, staring at Jaebeom with helplessness in his eyes.

“Ah, you two met there?” Jaebeom asked, contemplating. “When did you guys talk?”

Mark was confused, not seeing the sharp looks of ‘please-stop-talking’ that Jackson was shooting his friend. “Sorry, what? Met where?”

It was Jaebeom’s turn to look confused. “At the hospital, of course.”

Mark breathed out a nervous laugh, because he didn’t know where this was headed. “Why would I meet Jackson at the hospital?”

“Hyung!” Jackson interjected suddenly. Suspiciously. Moving his body in between his and Jaebeom’s. “I think maybe we should finish up our shopping and meet later—”

“No, tell me, Jaebeom-ssi.” He put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder.

Jaebeom was at a loss. He didn’t seem to understand Jackson’s panic, and neither could Mark. “Jackson was with me at the hospital when we brought him in. We brought him together. I thought he met you there when you came.”

Mark inhaled sharply, glancing at Jackson with surprise in his eyes. “Jackson.” He flinched, remaining quiet. “Is that true?”

“Hyung, I’ll come over later,” he told Jaebeom quietly, pushing him away. His friend took a step back, wondering why on earth something so simple—good news, in fact—turned awry. He bowed, mumbling out a greeting before he picked up his shopping basket and turned away.

Mark was shocked beyond words.

_Jackson took Hanyu to the hospital. Jackson knew who he was. Jackson knew who I was. What does this mean? Was he tracking me? Was he tracking anyone with connections to Hanyu? Is that why he asked about him and his parents?_

“Mark…”

He suddenly didn’t want to hear anything. His feet carried him after Jaebeom, calling his name.

-

Jackson was fucked.

Why, he screamed at himself, didn’t he tell Mark the truth as soon as he found out about it? Why, why, why? Can he blame Mark for not listening to him? _You fucking lied, Jackson!_

Mark hadn’t come back to the apartment until past midnight after running off to talk to JB. He’d waited up for him, but Mark didn’t spare anything a glance before locking himself in his room. Jackson wanted to call him, wanted to make sure he was okay, but he’d already done enough damage. Was Mark even willing to talk to him at all? He decided he didn’t want to test it. For all he knew, Mark thought he was some sort of creep or a stalker or something. Mark probably hated him.

He fell asleep that night to the sound of crying from the other side of the wall.

-

_Unease. Mark didn’t know why he was feeling so unsettled. It was a bright cloudless day but he wasn’t sharing the spirit. In fact, he was spacing out so much that his partner for his Statistics project had to keep snapping his fingers in front of his face to bring his focus back to him._

_“Sorry, Gyeom,” he muttered wearily. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”_

_He nodded sympathetically. “Maybe you should go home. I’ll finish up around here.”_

_“Ah, no.” Mark shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Let’s finish this.” But his phone was ringing, the caller ID displaying an unknown number. He frowned, swiping the answer button. “Hello?”_

_“Excuse me, is this Hanyu’s emergency contact?”_

_He froze. This wasn’t a voice he knew. Emergency contact? Why—why would they—who…?_

_“Um. Y-yes?” He was already shaking. Yugyeom looked at him in alarm._

_“We need you to come to the General Hospital immediately. There has been an accident.”_

_A click. He stared at his phone, heart racing, trembling all over. “Oh my god. Oh my god, what do I do? What do I do?” Yugyeom seized his shoulders and forced him down from his growing hysteria._

_“What. Happened.” His voice was steady enough that Mark responded the same way._

_“General Hospital.”_

_“I’ll take you there.”_

_The drive to the hospital was wrought with tension. He could only think of the worst and he was crying by the time he got there, despite Yugyeom’s attempts to calm him down. He let Yugyeom drag him through the reception and he desperately asked for Hanyu Tuan, to be ushered—alone—into the ER. The last thing he remembered seeing was Yugyeom’s reassuring smile before he turned a corner out of sight._

_He nearly bumped into a man on his phone in his daze and hastily apologized, but he neither seemed to notice or care._

_The talk with the doctor was less than reassuring, however. He signed whatever they thrust at him to get his surgery started and then demanded to know who brought him in._

_“Hello,” the young man greeted him politely, his clothes still stained red. He was looking at Mark carefully as if he would break down any moment._

_He forced a wobbly smile. “Thank you so much.” It was barely more than a whisper, but the man caught it._

_“It was the least we could do,” he replied. Mark’s knees suddenly gave way and he sank into a chair._

_“Tell me what happened to him,” he pleaded._

_And he told Mark about the car that came speeding out of nowhere although the signal was red. If he was in his right mind, Mark might have heard the anger in his voice. It hadn’t been the kid’s fault then. Tears slipped out of the corner of his eyes._

_His gaze rested on his soiled clothes. “I’ll—I’ll replace those,” he said weakly, gesturing to his attire. “They’re ruined.”_

_“Don’t be silly, of course you don’t have to.” He knelt in front of Mark. “Are you okay? That’s what matters.”_

_He nodded, sniffling. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.” He didn’t know why he was attempting the brave front. “You didn’t tell me your name yet. How can I be grateful if I don’t know your name?”_

_He chuckled under his breath. “My name is Im Jaebeom.”_

_“Mark.”_

_He squeezed his hands. “He’ll be fine, you know.”_

_“I know. That doesn’t make things any easier.”_

_“Doesn’t it?”_

_The two of them sat there in silence before Mark remembered that this was a person, he probably had plans interrupted, he must need to get home. Reluctantly, Jaebeom stood to leave, but only after making sure he would be okay._

_“And—” Mark grabbed his wrist. “Yugyeom—he’s sitting out there in reception. Tell him—tell him to go home and that I’ll be fine. Please?”_

_Jaebeom nodded. Left._

_Mark broke down completely. And he thought that would be the worst to happen._

_He wasn’t bargaining on the mess that would happen the next day._

_He never thought Hanyu wouldn’t wake up._

-

The apartment fell silent in a way that Mark never thought would be possible after Jackson moving in. There was always noise in it; but no longer. Several of his neighbours had even asked if Jackson had moved out. What was he supposed to tell them? _No, he didn’t move out, I just found out he’s a liar and I’m trying to cope with that by ignoring him and he’s too scared to approach me?_

In truth, Mark wasn’t totally mad at him or worried that he would be a stalker. After talking things over with Jaebeom, he’d concluded that Jackson hadn’t seen Mark that day at the hospital (Jaebeom recalled he’d gone to make a call or something). So the first time Jackson saw him really was at the apartment. And that’s why he was so curious about the picture. That’s when he’d known.

But why hide it?

-

“Mark!” He wasn’t sure if socializing was a good idea at the moment, but when he bumped into Jinyoung at the coffee shop down the street, he didn’t push him away. He joined the line at the counter right after him.

“Hello, sunbae.” The smile he put on definitely didn’t reach his eyes, but Jinyoung didn’t comment. Most college students had the same problem.

“I did it.” Jinyoung said smugly.

“Did what?”

“I told JB hyung that I liked him.”

Despite the inner turmoil Mark had been going through for the past few days, he gasped. “Wait, what? Seriously?” Jinyoung nodded, clearly brimming with glee, bouncing up and down on his heels like a giddy child just given sweets.

“He’s here, I want you to meet him.” He gestured to a table a short distance away. Mark saw the top of a head and smiled.

“I’d love to.”

He grinned, eyes crinkling. “Thanks, uh, for encouraging me to.”

Mark let out a laugh. “Um, you’re welcome? I didn’t really think you’d do it; I only said that to get you off my back about Jackson.” And as soon as the name rolled off his lips, his heart sank.

Jinyoung must have sensed the distress in his expression, because he asked, “Are you okay? Did you guys fight again?”

“I guess you could say that.” After placing their orders, Mark followed Jinyoung to their table, eager to meet this JB hyung he’d heard so much about.

He saw the man break into a wide smile on seeing Jinyoung return, but the moment Mark came within his line of sight, his face fell in surprise. So did Mark’s.

“Mark?” he asked, incredulous.

“Jaebeom?” He was in equal disbelief. A moment of silence passed when the two looked back and forth between each other and Jinyoung.

“You guys know each other?” Jinyoung questioned. “Ah, did Jackson introduce you? I thought you and Jackson weren’t talking, hyung.”

“This is your JB hyung?” Mark laughed.

Jaebeom looked sheepish. “My friends call me that.”

Jinyoung was just sitting there next to Mark, across from Jaebeom, confused. Jaebeom decided to take pity on him.

“Nyoung, you remember I told you that Jackson and I took a kid to the hospital? Last year?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the car accident.”

Mark’s chest felt tight. “That was my cousin.”

Jinyoung’s mouth fell open in shock. “Wait, what?” His eyes darted around, thinking. “And…Jackson knew who you were?”

Mark shook his head. “I met Jaebeom at the hospital that evening, but I didn’t see Jackson. He didn’t know I was the emergency contact until a month ago or something. But he didn’t tell me he was the one who took Hanyu to the hospital. I only found out a week ago when we bumped into Jaebeom at the supermarket.”

Jinyoung sat there, stunned. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me any of this.”

“He told me everything a few days ago,” Jaebeom interjected. “But he made me promise not to tell anyone.” He leaned forward and stared at Mark. “You’re still not talking to him, are you?”

He lowered his head in guilt. “I want to. It’s just—he lied to me and I don’t know why. I want to talk to him, but I just—don’t know how to break the silence.”

“His heart’s…in the right place,” Jaebeom assured him. “Honestly, I don’t think even he knows why he hid it from you.”

“I think I might know,” Jinyoung said softly. Both of them turned to look at him.

“I thought he didn’t tell you anything.”

“Not the recent stuff,” he agreed, “but he did tell me what happened last year.” Jinyoung searched Mark’s eyes, probably wondering how to put things into words. “Did Jackson tell you that he visited Hanyu at the hospital?”

Mark stilled. “He—he visited Hanyu?”

His senior nodded. “He went nearly every week to check up on him, to see if there was any progress.”

His jaw dropped in shock. “What?”

Jaebeom glanced over at his boyfriend, biting his lip nervously. “I think Jackson should be the one explaining all this.” Jinyoung looked sufficiently chastised.

“I’m just saying that might be the reason,” he hastily said. “He was really…devastated when he passed, you know. Came to me bawling his eyes out. I really didn’t know what to do.”

“Where was I during all this?” Jaebeom questioned.

“Japan, I think. But Mark, I’m not saying you shouldn’t be mad at him,” Jinyoung advised. “I can understand that. But, you know, hear him out. I’ll talk to him if you want. He’s not a bad guy.”

Mark inclined his head. “I understand. I’ll—I’ll listen to what he has to say.”

-

He went back that afternoon, heart in his throat.

_What do I tell him? What do I say? How do I break this silence?_

-

Mark waited.

The clock struck ten, then eleven.

Twelve.

He fidgeted with his phone, anxiety seeping through him. Where was he?

_Should I call him? Would that be—ah, never mind. Why should I be the one to patch this up? I didn’t do anything wrong! He’s the one who should apologize. Why isn’t he here?_

An hour later, Mark wasn’t thinking about the politics of his troubles. He was worried now, very much so. He tried to call Jackson, but his phone was switched off. Had he run away somewhere? What was going on? Should he call the police?

It was past one thirty when an unknown number called him. He stared at his phone, heart pounding, tears already pricking at the corners of his eyes.

 _Not again_ , he thought desperately. _Please not again._

“Hello?”

“Mark, it’s me. Jaebeom.” He didn’t waste any time. “Jackson’s with me; I figured you would be worried.”

He sunk into the sofa cushions, a hand over his heart. Oh, thank heaven. “He—he’s with you?”

“Yeah, he—uh, I’m guessing he went out by himself because he’s drunk out of his mind. Came knocking at my door a while ago.”

Mark didn’t know what to think. “Ah. I tried calling him, but…”

“Oh, his phone’s dead.” He heard muffled noises on the other end. “I wanted to call you sooner, but I had to find his number from his wallet.”

“His…his wallet?”

“Yeah, you’re his emergency contact. He has your info written down on a piece of paper.”

“Oh.” Mark’s voice sounded very small. “I see.”

He cleared his throat. “Um, he’s asleep now, but I’ll send him over tomorrow after his hangover’s gone down.”

“Ah. Yes. Thank you, Jaebeom.” He paused, about to hang up.

“Wait, uh, Mark?”

“Yes?”

Jaebeom sounded hesitant. “Okay, I’m…I’m not as great with words as Jinyoung is, but…um, I think you should know that Jackson is a good guy. Like, I know he may have hidden some things from you, but he wasn’t trying to, like, hurt you or anything.”

Mark swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“He was crying, you know.” Jaebeom made an uncomfortable noise, as if he didn’t know how to proceed from there. “When he showed up here. I couldn’t understand what he wanted to say, but I heard your name. He really cares about you, yeah? Even if—even if he doesn’t tell you.”

He nodded slowly, before remembering that he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, I—I understand.”

There was a brief awkward pause, before Jaebeom coughed. “So, um, yeah. You should…probably sleep. Good night.”

“Right. Good night.”

He silently set his phone down and put his head in his hands. When did all this become so complicated? Why was it so difficult? 

_I guess it’s my fault for not listening to him or giving him a chance to explain. Do I just wait for him to come back? What do I say?_

-

The sun rose bleakly the next morning.

Mark awoke to the jarring sound of the alarm ringing in an empty, silent apartment. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, he sighed, going through everything that happened a year ago, a month ago, a week ago. Wondering how things had escalated to this. 

_It’s better not to overthink about it. When he comes back, we’ll either talk it out or fight it out._

Around ten, Jaebeom shot him a text informing him that he’d sent Jackson back.

He sat on the sofa, giving him a view of the front door. He would wait. Waste no time. Just get it over with. He was vaguely aware of his heartbeat in mild panic.

At last, someone knocked, tried the door and opened it.

Jackson’s gaze fell on his stoic expression and he flinched. Slowly stepping in and removing his shoes, making as little noise as possible, he stood in the doorway for a moment before sitting down on the other end of the sofa.

Neither of them spoke.

Mark sensed him fumbling with his fingers, itching to say something. 

“I went to see him.”

He didn’t respond. Jackson took his silence as invitation to continue.

“Every week. I—I don’t know why, to be honest. I just…” He shook his head. “I just felt some sort of attachment to him. I wanted him to get better. I really did.”

Mark’s heart ached at his words. How could he be angry for this? For his compassion?

“When I went the day after he…” he broke off. “When I went, I was told…the news. And I didn’t know how to take it. I couldn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t believe that anyone would give up on him.” He drew in a deep breath, still clearly anxious at his silence. “Deep down I guess I knew that there was nothing we could do and it was easier to…end his suffering, but…I didn’t want to accept it, I guess. I know that sounds silly, but—”

“It’s not silly.”

Jackson paused, hesitant. His voice was rough from lack of use.

“Ah.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I…I shouldn’t have, but I think I just put my resentment on whoever his emergency contact was, you know? I guess I figured they made the decision.” Mark felt tears beginning to form but he blinked them away. “I really didn’t know it was you. Or that you weren’t—”

“I know, Jackson.” He finally looked up at him. Jackson was on the edge of his seat, worried but hopeful. “The boys told me everything. I just wish you hadn’t lied.”

“So do I,” he said sincerely.

The two of them stared at each other, not saying anything. Jackson seemed ready for an outburst, a single sentence that Mark wasn’t going to forgive him.

“Why would you do that, though?” Mark spat, slamming his hand down onto the cushions. Jackson jumped, startled.

“I’m really sorry, Mark, I didn’t think—”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was when you didn’t come home last night?”

“—find out…wait, what?” He was dumbfounded. “Oh.”

“I was this close to calling the police, you know that? I don’t even know how many gods I thanked when Jaebeom called saying you crashed at his place. Why do you have to go and get drunk, huh? Why do you have to put yourself in danger like that?”

Jackson visibly relaxed, a small smile breaking across his lips. “I’m so sorry. Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“You’re so stupid.” And Jackson stretched his arms out for a hug. Mark melted into it, holding him tight so he’d never let him go. “He would have loved you, too,” he murmured into his shoulder.

Jackson drew back, eyes uncharacteristically serious. That was a grand statement Mark had just made. But he wasn’t going to withdraw it. He knew it was true.

“Does—does that mean you—love me?” Jackson spluttered, blotches of red forming on his cheeks. And then Mark realized exactly what he had said.

“What? No,” he retorted defensively, pushing him away. “What are you talking about? I never said anything like that.” And then he jumped up to run away, squirming out of his firm grasp. Jackson’s fingers found his sides and he burst out gasping.

Laughter rung through the still apartment.

-

“Hyung, you called Mark yesterday?”

“Yeah, I did. You think your flatmate wouldn’t be worried about you?”

“What did you say?”

“Ha. I didn’t say anything. Why? Should I have told Mark you were saying “I love you” in your sleep?”

-

“Yeah, Jinyoung, I’ll be there, don’t worry so much,” Mark spoke into the phone he balanced on his shoulder. His hands were busy washing out the dishes he’d used for lunch. “How’s Jaebeom doing?” He hummed as his senior (now graduated, big whoop, whatever, ugh) went into an explanation on how his boyfriend’s cat woke them up yowling at three in the morning because she got herself stuck on top of the display cabinet and he couldn’t go back to sleep.

“Is Jackson there?” Jinyoung asked. Mark wiped his hands hastily on a washcloth before taking his phone in his hand and stepping over to the window.

“No, he had a morning shift,” Mark informed him. “He was supposed to be here by now, come to think of it.” He glanced out, wondering where he might be.

“Ah, okay. Remind him to come tomorrow, too.” Jinyoung paused. “Wait, is it a good idea to bring Jacks? Do you think he’ll be too loud? I don’t want to blow this—”

“Jinyoung, relax,” he reassured. “Jaebeom’s parents already love you, I don’t see why you’re so afraid—”

“That’s when we were just friends!” He cried, panic evident in his tone. “I don’t even know what they’ll say about this!”

His phone made a funny beeping noise. “Jinyoung, you’ll be fine. I promise you. I’ll call you back, okay? I’m getting another call.” Mark hung up on him to see an unknown number calling. Without thinking twice, he answered. “Hello?”

“Excuse me, is this Jackson Wang’s emergency contact?”


	2. Chapter 2

It was a miracle that Mark didn’t get _himself_ admitted to the hospital.

His mind was frantically piecing together the worst case scenarios as he drove. All he could think was _Jackson, Jackson, Jackson._

_This can’t be happening. Not again._  
 _Please, please, whatever’s up there,_ he begged, vision temporarily going blurry. _Don’t let history repeat itself. Please, I’ll do whatever it takes. Just let him be okay. Just let him be okay. Just let him be okay._

He wasn’t thinking at all when he ran into the lobby, desperately asking for Jackson Wang. He was hardly listening when they directed him to the ward he was in. In hindsight, the fact that he wasn’t in the ICU should have been a relief, but he was far too worried to pay attention to the details.

Somebody took his arm and guided him to the right ward and he could barely stammer out a thanks before he burst inside, ready to fucking cry.

And there he was, the glorious bastard, sitting up on a cot with a leg in a cast and pouting. Jackson’s face lit up when he saw him. The build-up of tears inside Mark’s head were the only thing keeping him from cussing his boyfriend out until his little ears bled.

“You son of a— _fuck_. I hate you so much, Jackson Wang.” Jackson flinched at his use of his full name. Mark approached his bed and the expression on his face must have been disturbing enough, because the nurse quietly asked him to _please don’t make a scene here, sir, the other patients are resting_. He nodded to her, waving off the warning. Jackson scooted over carefully, a little sheepish.

“What happened? How did you break your leg?” He crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation. Jackson scratched his head.

“I fell down the stairs at work,” he admitted quietly. “I was trying to prove a point.”

“That your bones are breakable?”

“No, that I could do a dance move.” Jackson forced a smile. “I lost balance.”

“Well, I certainly hope you’ve learned your lesson.” He huffed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pouting harder. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Do you have any idea how terrified I was?”

He pulled Mark down so he was sitting and wrapped his arms around him, smushing his cheeks against his back. “I’m so sorry.”

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally escaped. “I thought I might have lost you, too.” Mark’s voice came out hushed, barely above a whisper. His grip tightened.

“I would have called you myself, but they were fitting the cast and it hurt like a bitch, and by the time they were done, they’d already called.” He patted Jackson’s arms, not needing an explanation any longer.

“Does it still hurt badly?” he asked, trailing his fingertips over the drying cast carefully.

“Only when I try to move.” Mark turned in his arms and pressed his lips against his. Jackson responded eagerly enough, fingers winding themselves in his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing, dumbass,” Mark murmured back, pinching him. He yelped and broke away.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he shrieked. “I am a patient! I am in the hospital, in pain!”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Stop being so dramatic.”

Jackson exhaled deeply and sunk back into his pillow. “We’ll see who’s going to be so dramatic when I go home and have doctor’s orders not to move for three weeks and you have to do everything for me.”

His lips pursed at the thought of having Jackson be totally dependent on him. “Well then, we’ll see who’s going to be dramatic when the doctor tells him he can’t move at all for three weeks and when he realizes that means no sex for three weeks.”

It was almost comical, the way the smug smile slid off his face. “What?” he whispered, the life sucked out of him. Mark leaned in closer.

“You heard me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said i wasnt cruel  
> this was originally posted to tumblr but it was the only got7 fic i wrote on there so i made it markson

**Author's Note:**

> dont worry there's a little bit left im not that cruel


End file.
